


Pancakes

by MatildaSwan



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Don't Judge Me, F/M, Murray Child, Post Series, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicola liked it when Malcolm cooked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aura218](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aura218/gifts).



> Same universe as 'Time Heals all Manner of Wounds', a few years down the track.

Nicola hummed as the last snippets of dreams faded behind her eyelids, snuffling as her mind crawled closer and closer to wakefulness. She wiggled her toes, rubbing her nose into the pillow; gathering up the covers and pulling them tighter around her neck, curling her knees closer towards her chest. She shuffled towards the middle of the bed, seeking out a pane of chest and extra body heat.

She vaguely registered having the blanket to herself and sighed as she flipped onto her back, splaying across the mattress with a smile. She yawned and stretched; rubbing sleep from her eyes, still reluctant to open them. She pressed her head further into the pillows, content to lay in the still morning calm, before eventually peeling her eyes open.

She threw back the covers, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed; feet protesting to solidity of the floor beneath them, toes worming through the carpet fibres. She heaved herself up, fingers reaching for the ceiling as her back arched. She moaned as she shook out stiff muscles, threw on a dressing gown over her pyjamas and padded downstairs.

She heard scuffling in the kitchen, and the smell of frying butter wafted up the hallway. Josh sat at the table, his coursework splayed out in front of him. Nicola walked behind him and ruffled his hair; hands in his shoulder, leaning down to peck him on top of the head.

“Morning, dear.” Taking the seat next to him and flipping through an open textbook. He grunted hello. “What are you working on?” Josh flashed the cover of the novel in his hand at her, focusing on the hand still scrawling across the page.

“Ha, I remember Macbeth,” putting the textbook down, opened to its original page. “Bet that one’s right up your alley, Malcolm,” calling over her shoulder.

“Yeah, all the shouting and blood, exactly my kind of story,” walking towards the table, carrying a small mountain of pancakes in one hand and a knife and fork in the other. “Here you go, mate,” he waited for Josh to shuffle things out of the way. “Breakfast of champions,” shooting them a wolfish grin before scurrying back to the kitchen.

Nicola followed; sound of cutlery scraping across crockery behind her. She pressed her chest against Malcolm’s back; snaking her arms under his elbows and hugging him from behind.

“Oh, what’s the special occasion?” She murmured into his ear, playing with the fabric of his shirt. Malcolm shot her a look, leant back to peck her on the cheek before turning his attention back to the stove.

She retreated, leaning against the door as Malcolm scurried about the kitchen. Nicola loved watching him cook; single minded intent and so relaxed. He danced across the floor, tea towel thrown over his shoulder: socked feet sliding from side to side, chopping board to stove; pouring batter from jug to skillet with absolute provision. He hummed to himself as he swirled the pan, flipping each pancake twice before transferring to a plate.

“Right, I’ve got the get to class.” Josh cut through Nicola’s daze, dropping his plate in the sink. He grabbed his things off the table, shoving them in his bag and striding down the hall. “Bye Mum,” he called over his shoulder. “Malcolm, cheers for breakfast.”

“No worries, son.”

“Have a good day at school!”

They heard the front door slam: butter sizzled over the stove.

“These smell amazing,” Nicola started picking at the pile of pancakes on the bench. “I’m starved.” Malcolm swatted her hand away with a spatula and Nicola let out an indignant shriek. She swipe at him as he turned off the heat. “Arse!”

“Actually darling,” his hands snaked around her waist and gripped her hips, guiding her back against the bench. “I had a different breakfast in mind.”

He lifted her up, dropping her on the bench. She giggled and draped her arms around his neck; they were at eye level. He leant forward and kissed her; orange juice and butter, his stubble itching her cheeks. Her dressing gown parted and his fingers trailed along the inside of her legs, playing with the hem of her shorts. Her thighs trembled under his touch.

“Happy Valentine’s day, pet,” he whispered against her lips, before mouthing his way down her body.


End file.
